The Lucky Streak of Milo C Traylor
by Claudette
Summary: An entry for the "Outside Looking In" Challenge. Sometimes even the most fortunate events can have totally unforeseen consequences.


**The lucky streak of Milo C Traylor**

He'd never won anything before. In recent years he'd given up even listening when winners were called out and just carried on downing the drinks, so it had taken three hard jabs in the ribs from his colleague to even get his attention. As he'd walked up to the podium he'd still been half-convinced this was a put-up job by one of his so-called 'buddies'. Now, here he was, sitting in the first class departure lounge of London Airport, and wondering if the gods of chance were really about to smile on him for the second time in a lifetime.

He'd first spotted her walking ahead of him through the terminal. Decent dress, beautiful hair, great legs. All he'd needed was to see her face. And boy, did she have some face! His breath had hitched as he caught her reflection in the window of a perfumery as she glanced at it in passing. She's gonna break some hearts some day he'd thought before logic reasserted itself in his somewhat distracted brain. Someday? She's probably broken a dozen already, all gladly laid down beneath her dainty feet by those fortunate enough to have crossed her path.

As he'd sunk into his seat by the observation window he was aware of her walking past him, that tight, blue chinese dress accentuating her curves and her perfect proportions and by stooping to tie his shoelace he'd spotted her perch on a seat a little way behind him in the lounge. An old subterfuge he knew, but it still worked. When he saw a flight attendant appear with a list and a clip-board he'd held his breath, barely daring to hope that he might hear anything, and yet it had happened.

Now he possessed a name and, more importantly, a title. Miss. Well, it wasn't conclusive, not in these days when few married and many of those who did still stayed single by title, but it was a start. Maybe this trip of a lifetime would yield something else as well as the experience of being waited on hand and foot in the world's fastest airliner. Maybe by the end of this flight he'd have something else to look forward to next time he took a vacation, apart from gaming casinos and baccarat tables.

"Excuse me, sir, please confirm your name." He came back from his thoughts to find the flight attendant by his side, clipboard in hand and an enquiring look on her face.

"Uh, yeah I'm sorry. Daydreaming. Traylor, Milo C Traylor."

"Thank you Mr Traylor. Congratulations on your prize. Your flight has been called and we'll be boarding in the next few minutes. You may choose whichever free seat you wish in the first class cabin and once we are in the air I'll give you a run-down on the facilities available to you for this flight." He might have been imagining it but he almost thought she was slightly amused by his demeanour. Maybe she realised this was a special thing to him, not just another flight for a travel weary veteran.

Slowly, trying not to hurry, he got to his feet and glanced around. The girl was nowhere to be seen, she must have already left for the aircraft. Putting on speed he hurried out and along to the boarding walkway for the waiting Fireflash, his eyes searching hungrily for her but she was nowhere in sight. Through the tunnel, into the door and another name-check. He craned his neck to see if her name was marked off but the attendant held the data pad angled away from him. There was no sign of her in the cabin. Daydreaming? He'd spoken only the truth to the attendant. Daydreaming at the impossible prospect of a guy like him hitting it lucky with a dream like Miss Tin-Tin Kyrano. Ah well. At least the drinks were free.

Spotting a seat with a clear view of the elongated outline of the airliner he settled himself down and used the few spare minutes left before the flight to examine the sights around him in detail. He was vaguely aware of the movements on the ground in this busy international airport but his attention was mainly taken by the activities of the staff member behind the bar, securing the various bottles and glasses for take-off. He knew there'd be drinks on this flight, there always were drinks for first-class passengers – or so the more travelled of his work-colleagues told him – but he'd never imagined the level of luxury that he'd encounter. The mere open space in this section took him by surprise. Never mind room to get up and stretch his legs, there'd be room enough to dance the Tango should he have so wished. He almost heard a snort of derision in his imagination as that thought passed through his brain. Yeah sure, as if a girl like that would even consider speaking to you, never mind dancing. Dream on Milo, it's good to have dreams.

"Excuse me. Is this seat free?" The sing song oriental voice registered in his heart before his brain made the connection. Turning, his eyes were met by the vision in blue that he had been seeking.

"Sir? Is this seat free?" Her dark eyes were deep wells of promise and her stylish black hair framed her perfection.

"Uh, sure" he stammered out "Help yourself".

This was it. It must be. For some reason the gods were smiling on him. Here he was, seated next to the most beautiful woman on earth, on board the fastest airliner on earth, or over it, with two whole hours to get to know her in a care-free, luxury environment. Well. He'd do it. He'd rise to the challenge. This was the day of Milo C Traylor.

The next few minutes had passed him by like a dream as he'd nervously tried to engage her in conversation only to find she responded with that intriguing touch of the orient – meek and softly spoken but with an air of something mystical and subtle about her that spoke of hidden promise. As the airliner taxied down the runway and gained the air they'd exchanged names and compared their journeys that day. Once the flight attendant had sought him out, acquainted him with the special service he could expect and then left, taking with her their orders for drinks and snacks, the beauty had congratulated him on his good fortune and been gracious enough to ask him for his impressions of the Fireflash.

"Well, I'm not really in a position to say. It's certainly easy on the eye and there sure is plenty of space in here."

"Oh yes, I completely agree. The interior layout of the aircraft is certainly a tribute to the designer and it is very comfortable."

"It sounds like there's a 'but' coming Miss Kyrano?"

"Well it's just that six times the speed of sound is very fast. It would not need very much to go wrong to cause a serious problem. I hope their engineers have thought about everything very carefully."

He really hadn't meant to be condescending. Reassuring was what he was aiming for but as soon as the words were out of his mouth he sensed he had got it wrong.

"But Miss Kyrano, flight has come a long way since the Wright brothers took to the air. Don't you worry your head about it. I'm sure the engineers know what they're doing. This Fireflash is real state of the art stuff – there's nothing better on the planet."

The small nod and quiet smile were polite enough but he could tell from the following silence he'd have to work hard to make up the ground he'd lost with his stupid comment. Desperately looking around the cabin for another topic to ease the growing awkwardness his gaze came to rest on the bar. Was it too soon to get another drink he wondered. After all, the first drinks they had ordered had only been on the table in front of them for about ten seconds.

He at first imagined the sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach to be his own despair at seeing his ineptitude with the opposite sex once again landing him in that place of embarrassment that he knew so well and hated so much but remarkably this time he was wrong.

"I don't understand it." Her voice was puzzled more than worried. "Something must be wrong. We are losing height."

The announcement of a minor technical fault cut in before he could respond but unfortunately he did not use the time to his credit, thinking of a non-patronising remark to make. Instead, he just caught up his shovel and carried on heaving dirt over his shoulder.

"Say, you're right. Oh, but I guess it's nothing to worry about."

As the silent sound of derisive laughter rang through his head he wondered whether she was just worrying out-loud or whether she thought he needed to be reminded that two hundred thousand feet was a long way to fall.

The next few minutes seemed unreal. He could hardly believe how soon his dream had been snatched away from him. Rather than two hours to get to know this woman he now had only a few minutes left before the airliner put down again. Suddenly a brainwave hit.

"Say, when we get back to London how about you join me for some food while we wait for Terranean Airways to sort us out another flight?"

The beauty's head tipped to one side as if she were seriously considering his offer and, just for a few seconds, he had hope.

"That is very kind of you Mr Traylor but..."

She was interrupted by a soft thud from the underside of the aircraft followed by the announcement system once more coming to life.

"Ladies and gentlemen please do not be alarmed. Fireflash is going to fly past the control tower at London Airport so that a visual inspection of her undercarriage can be carried out from the ground. This is a perfectly safe manoeuvre but the starboard side of the aircraft will be lifted slightly so please ensure your safety belts are still securely fastened."

Almost before the announcement was complete the craft tilted and he clutched the sides of his seat.

"Do not worry Mr Traylor. I'm sure the pilots are very good. It just feels worse than it is because we are not the ones in control."

The girl had a reassuring smile but in her eyes he could have sworn he could see anxiety – almost as if she knew something he didn't. Much to his relief the aircraft soon gained height and the flight became smooth and comfortable again.

Any time now they'd be re-opening the bar and he could get another drink. He could almost feel the bourbon sliding down his throat and he was starting to relax at the thought. It was a shame she had to go and spoil it.

"I wonder why we are circling the airport. Perhaps there is a problem with the undercarriage."

"A problem with the landing gear?" The words nearly choked him "What makes you say so?"

A contrite expression crossed her face and she looked slightly embarrassed.

"Oh, please do not mind me. I was just thinking aloud. It is nothing. I am sure everything will be fine."

As he opened his mouth to object, the third unwelcome announcement came.

"Ladies and gentlemen please remain in your seats. The pilots are going to check the steering controls of the aircraft to make sure that the Fireflash is perfectly safe to land. There may a few bumpy moments as these tests are carried out but please be assured they are completely routine for this type of technical problem and you are all perfectly safe. For your own comfort we must ask you to remain in your seats with your safety belts fastened for just a few minutes more."

This time she did not try to reassure him past giving him a small smile and he noticed that her knuckles were as white as his own when the aircraft started to execute a series of rapid movements to left, right, up and down in quick succession. He was on the brink of summoning the attendant to enquire about the possibility of visiting the rest-room when the manoeuvres finished and the Fireflash once more started flying smoothly.

Shortly afterwards they were free to remove their restraints and he was up on his feet and about to head for the bar when he was brought up short. Taking the booze over the girl Milo?He really was beginning to dislike this habit he had developed of talking to himself in the third person but for some reason his brain did not seem inclined to stop. And you wonder why you have no luck with the girls. With a tide of crimson flooding his face he turned back.

"Miss Kyrano. Would you join me for a drink at the bar?"

For a passing instant he could have sworn he caught a distinct expression of deep unease on her face but when she looked up it was as if he had imagined it. A smile graced her lips.

"That is very kind of you Mr Traylor." She rose to meet him.

"Please, call me Milo."

She hesitated for an instant and then smiled again.

"Very well. That is very kind of you Milo."

As they crossed the floor together it seemed to Milo he could hear the faint cheering of the gods in the clouds around them. Either that or his inner voice had changed its personality.

One drink became two and was on the way to becoming three. He hadn't cared. He had been too busy trying to cash in on what remained of his good fortune to question how long it was taking the craft to get around to landing. Now, as he returned to her side, he was desperately conscious of the young woman swinging her feet beneath her stool and of what must be the small amount of time he still had. As the barman mixed the drink he had ordered before his trip to the rest-room he leaned against the bar and scoured his brain for something new to say.

"You were saying that your work colleagues would tease you about this journey Milo?"

He jumped slightly and then blushed as he looked at her.

"Well yeah, I guess that's right." A small snigger sounded in the deep recesses of his brain but he ignored it. "I'm not known for being lucky so this flight was a bolt from the blue for me like I said."

She nodded encouragingly but he wondered at the slight rocking motion of her body. The 'plane was moving sure but not enough to cause her to move back and forth like that.

"Well, to land a prize like this and then for the 'plane to have engine trouble or whatever it is would be just the sort of break I would get. I guess they won't let me forget this in a hurry. I can hear them now - 'Just Milo's luck'."

She opened her mouth but whatever she was about to say was lost as another of those damned announcements came.

"Ladies and gentlemen, this is the Captain speaking. I have a very important announcement to make."

He had the bizarre impression of a drum-roll playing out in his head.

"We're still unable to land but every effort is being made to ensure your safety."

If he had been a religious man, he knew he would have started praying at this point. Instead, he listened for the sound of rolling dice.

"In the meantime,"

The drum-roll began to build.

"please,"

The dice hit the back board.

"remain calm."

He could not decide whether the scream inside his head was one of sarcastic laughter or hysteria. In what he would later look back upon as the best piece of acting he had ever done, he mulishly ignored it, whatever it was, and turned to look at something else, anything else. What caught his eye was a movement in the clouds ahead. At his exclamation of surprise everyone around turned to look. It was the oddest shaped craft he'd ever seen and he thought for just one minute that maybe he was the only one seeing it.

"Why, it is a target carrier. What is that doing up here?"

He wondered if he had heard aright but the face of the barman told him he was not dreaming this.

"You know what that is Miss Kyrano?"

"Why yes," Her face was more animated now than he had seen it all day. "it is a type of aircraft the military use for training their pilots to shoot."

"They're going to shoot us down?" He hadn't known his voice could still reach so high. "Why? How can they? They can't **do** that, I'm an American."

Peals of genuine laughter stopped him dead.

"They are not going to shoot us down Milo. The aircraft has no weapons. It carries targets for other planes to shoot down."

"Oh."

To cover his confusion he looked back at the sky. The back of the small craft had opened and a tiny blob of blue seemed to be bobbing up and down at the back of the plane.

"What the hell are they doing?" The words were out before he had even thought "Oh, I'm sorry Miss Tin-Tin. Uh, I mean, Miss Kyrano."

The girl could not have heard him. She had moved forward to the observation windows that lined the front wall. As he moved to join her he heard a cry of surprise.

"Oh! It is a person. There is a man on the tow line."

The entire first-class lounge was in a tumult of excitement now with all the passengers lined up along the front windows, tossing comments backwards and forwards as they watched the tiny blue-clad figure bouncing around like a ball on the ocean. Suddenly the Fireflash surged up and down and Milo lurched against the window, his hands first stopping his face from smashing into the plexi-glass and then wrapping around the hand-rail to keep him upright. As he re-gained his balance he looked ahead, half-expecting the man to be gone but he was still there, edging inexorably toward the massive airliner.

"They're trying to put him on board the Fireflash!"

"No! They can't be."

She must be mistaken surely, he thought but in his heart he knew she was right and that the 'minor technical hitch' was very far from being minor at all.

The next few minutes passed in silence as the passengers watched the tiny figure approach and then disappear under the fusilage. Milo was just starting to think his lungs would burst when the empty tow-line suddenly re-appeared and he realised he could breath again. A wave of relief swept over him. They were saved. Terranean Airways must have put an engineer on board to sort out the problem. Just a few more minutes to wait and then they'd be able to land. He realised he was hungry. Alcohol was good but it didn't fill you up. He'd noticed what looked like a good restaurant in the terminal when he was heading for the departure lounge. The prices seemed reasonable and there was a particular lamb dish advertised that looked delicious. Were Orientals vegetarians? Some were he knew but...

A scream brought him back to the present and Miss Kyrano staggered against him as the Fireflash turned suddenly on its side, one wing pointing down at the ground. Automatically he wrapped his arms around her and held her close.

"He's fallen."

"Where is he?"

"What happened?"

"Can you see him?"

The babble of voices around him drowned his ears but he only had eyes for her. Her face was drained of colour, hands in front of her mouth, large almond eyes filled with horror. Impulsively he cradled her head against his shoulder. Strangely, she did not fight him but stood, trembling in his arms.

"There he is!"

"He had a parachute."

"He's alright, he's safe."

He cursed as the voices broke in on their moment. No, his moment. She pulled away and turned back to the window, her head craning toward the ground as the Fireflash righted itself and continued onwards. When she turned back the moment had passed.

The next twenty odd minutes were a nightmare of waiting. At first passengers hounded the flight attendants, demanding information to know what was happening; when they were going to be able to land; who the man had been and why he had been put on board the Fireflash. Then, getting few answers, they drifted around the cabin, downing drinks, postulating on the possible course of events or just standing at the observation windows, staring out at the clouds or at what little could be seen of the ground.

Milo was nearby when the call came through from the flight-deck for the head attendant. He saw her pretty face pale and age in seconds. Her shoulders sagged and, as she re-hung the receiver, her saw her hand tremble.

Not good news Milo, not good news at all. Curiously his inner companion seemed to have acquired an attitude of calm detachment. Shame there's no casino on board. You could die happy knowing you'd got your dough on the certainty of us all buying the farm today.

"Please resume your seats ladies and gentlemen." The flight attendant had recovered some of her composure and was ushering them back to the seating area. "Please sit down and fasten your safety belts. Captain Hansen is about to make an announcement."

"What announcement?"

"What's he gonna say?"

"What's going on?"

Leaving the unreasoning masses to their questions Milo Traylor returned to his seat. She was already there, her face still pale, her hands in her lap, fiddling with a neat watch on her wrist.

"Seems like they're finally gonna tell us what's up." he observed

"Yes" her voice was calm and controlled "but I do not think it is going to be good news."

As an attendant finally persuaded a nearby passenger into her seat, appeasing her protestations with the repeated assurance that an announcement was imminent, Milo's thoughts turned to the chance event that had brought him to this place, on this day. When Captain Hansen's voice interrupted his cogitations he could only groan that what had seemed like an immense stoke of good fortune had turned out like this.

"Ladies and gentlemen, this is the Captain." The voice hesitated momentarily and then continued "As you will have guessed by now the Fireflash has a serious problem."

This unsurprising admission was met with stony silence from the passengers – including the voice in Milo's head.

"It appears there is a serious problem with the undercarriage of the Fireflash. It cannot be locked into place which makes it impossible to land the aircraft without the undercarriage collapsing."

Faint mutterings started in several places around Milo. He vaguely recognised some of the words as those he had been taught by his parents many years ago.

"Despite this, a landing attempt is going to be made with the help of a rescue organisation going by the name of International Rescue that has appeared at London Airport."

The face of the girl beside him, who had been listening intently, suddenly brightened and Milo was surprised to see a sudden flush of colour reach her cheeks.

"I won't lie to you ladies and gentlemen. The situation is extremely serious but, for various reasons, we have no choice but to attempt this landing immediately. If you have any powerful gods to call upon I suggest you do so now. In the meantime please stay in your seats with your safety belts fastened. Once the Fireflash is on the ground you need to be ready to evacuate immediately so ensure you are familiar with your routes to the nearest emergency exits."

There was a final pause before the Captain added

"Good luck and may God help us all."

He could not believe it. How could something that had started so well have come to this? He had never had much luck in his life. Flitting from one position to another he had never settled into any career and had only landed his current position after he had taken some advice from a friend on how to sell himself in interviews. After that, time after time he was passed over for promotion or missed the short list 'by a whisker'; when 'dream' positions/properties/deals came up he was always the last to know; girls he liked were either already taken or preferred his friends. He was even unlucky in stupid little things such as celebratory drinks being announced at times when he was either on leave or off-site.

This trip of a lifetime really had been a complete shock to him. He hadn't even put any work into thinking about that sales slogan – he had been in that twilight world, halfway between waking and sleep when it had drifted into his thoughts and haunted his rest all that night. It had followed him to work the next day and he had written it on the suggestion card more to exorcise it from his spirit than to make a serious submission for the works competition. Now, here he was, on board a doomed airliner on its maiden flight. Fireflash? It would be better called Titantic.

Ahead of them the airfield was in sight. There was no obvious sign of any rescue attempt and he wondered whether the Captain had just decided to take his chances with a belly-flop landing. Well, maybe I am lucky after all he thought grimly, at least there's no-one that will miss me, unlike many of the others on board.

He looked sideways to see how the girl was taking this and was amazed to see that, rather than appearing frightened or anxious, she seemed almost excited, leaning forward and gazing intently at the rapidly approaching asphalt. As the airfield fence flashed by, seemingly inches beneath them, he could see the green grass on the edges of the runway, the growing specks of the airport buildings in the distance and, where the asphalt vanished in a haze of summer heat, the faint twinkling lights of rescue tenders. Suddenly cries of disbelief broke out around him.

"What the hell?"

"Don't they know we're here?"

"We're going to hit them."

"They're moving."

Ahead of them on the runway were three, tiny, bizarre vehicles with some sort of wide, flat roofs. Spaced in a triangular arrangement they were accelerating along the runway, for all the world as if they were racing the Fireflash.

Stupid way to get yourself killed he thought, playing chicken with a 'plane with faulty landing gear. They'd sure get one hell of a shock if we landed on them. At that instant the penny dropped.

"They can't be serious." The words were out of his mouth before he'd registered it. Miss Kyrano looked across at him in surprise.

"Of course they are Mr Traylor." When had 'Milo' been replaced by 'Mr Traylor' he wondered. "If the Fireflash cannot land on its own undercarriage it must land on something else to have any chance of surviving."

He didn't want to completely give up on any remote chance that still remained of getting anywhere with this girl but really, anyone might think she was unbalanced, making a comment like that.

"That's just plain impossible. We'll flatten them."

"I hope not. We'd better hold on".

The Fireflash was directly over the tiny vehicles by now. One was under the main belly of the craft, another immediately to their left, under the wing where he was sitting in the first class lounge. He could just see the two of them, racing along the runway, keeping pace with the giant airliner, in perfect alignment. The third was hidden by the craft's immense bulk but he assumed, or maybe hoped, it was still there, under the opposite wing. Gradually the Fireflash dropped until it was nearly touching the vehicles. For an instant he almost believed it was going to work – for an instant. Then the car under the wing where he sat suddenly skewed away at an abrupt angle, totally out of control and careered toward a line of parked aircraft.

Almost instantly the Fireflash reacted, her engines whining in protest as it fought to gain height. Gain height! His mouth was dry and his hands were clammy where they were gripping the seat restraints. His shirt was sticking to his back. How the hell could a 'plane the size of Fireflash possibly gain height from this close to the ground? He closed his eyes, hoping it would not hurt much and wondering idly whether there would be any pieces large enough to identify or whether a mass grave somewhere would be the solution to the problem.

It was with amazement he realized he was still thinking. Credo ergo sum - still here? Not daring to open his eyes he did a sensory check only to realise there was that mental feeling of a yawning chasm at his back and his ears were starting to pop – the 'plane must be climbing. He opened his eyes a crack in time to see the nose of the Fireflash drop back as the immense airliner resumed horizontal flight.

"It is alright. We are still here Mr Traylor."

"For now." Milo cursed the tremble he heard in his own voice. Clearing his throat he continued "I guess they'll have to think of something else. There's no way that crackpot idea can work."

"Please remain in your seats ladies and gentlemen." The Captain's voice was tense and the announcement short but it was enough to cause another howl of hysteria, for he was convinced that was what it was, to ring through his skull. "International Rescue have instructed us to give this one more try and that's what we're going to do. Be ready to leave the Fireflash as soon as we stop moving."

As the Fireflash circled the airfield and once more started its approach to the airport it felt as if every god under heaven was being called upon by the passengers around him. Milo had prayed before, in different places, for different reasons, mainly to those going by the names of fortune, chance, and lady luck. They had never served him well. Perhaps a different choice would be wise. Dear God in heaven. He was rather surprised he remembered this title at all – it had been so long since he had last used it in earnest. Help us. After a short pause, during which he watched the Fireflash gradually descend and line up with the waiting landing strip, he thought of an addition. Please.

This time in was worse than the first. His mouth was dry, his hands wet, his shirt once more soaked with sweat but this time he was trembling in every muscle. His body was desperately calling for another visit to the rest-room and his heart seemed to think he was in the middle of a race.

Never before had he been so aware of color. The vivid blue of the dress in the next seat mirrored the bright blue of the summer's sky outside the aircraft. The verdant green of the grass and trees outside the airport spoke of life and health. Only the oily plumes of black smoke coming from the burning hulks of distant aircraft reflected the darkness of his soul and of a wasted life approaching a rapid and painful death. Dear God, I don't want to die. He'd not thought of eternity for many years – not since he'd stood by his parents' grave consumed with an overbearing sense of futility and loneliness. Now he was looking at eternity full-on.

As the Fireflash came into position over the absurd vehicles of International Rescue the memories of his childhood came flooding back and the intervening years disappeared as he felt again the loving embrace of his mother's arms and remembered the pride and unconditional love shining out of his father's deep, brown eyes.

The bump of the Fireflash dropping onto the rescue vehicles jerked him back to the present and he clutched the sides of the table in front of him, hanging on for dear life as the deceleration forces tried to throw him out of his seat. His safety harness tightened across his lap as the engines of the airliner changed note and he felt the braking force of the huge aircraft coming into play. The calls from the flight attendants to take up crash positions finally broke into his consciousness and he all but doubled up over the table, resting the side of his face on the cold, white top. Your face may be like this soon – cold and hard, without life or spirit. The thought was a deeply unwelcome one and seemed strongly prophetic as the screeching of locked brakes filled his ears.

Two small explosions from outside were echoed by screams in the aircraft but when a third, louder explosion shook the aircraft from nose to tail a final thought came – while there is life there is hope. Act while you have time. The nose of the airliner suddenly dipped and he involuntarily looked up. The nose of the aircraft was now grating along the runway, sparks coming from the tip. Alongside it was the lead vehicle, for all the world as if it were trying to guide the 'plane off the asphalt. As he watched the vehicle skidded away, hit a ditch and overturned and his heart wrenched at the thought of the driver, now possibly dead or dying, who had been willing to risk his life so that he, Milo C Traylor, might survive. The dam in his heart was finally breached and the words came fast and furious. "I'm sorry ok? I'm sorry I messed up and wasted my life. Please" – he pleaded with eternity – "please, give me another chance. Let me live...let us live. Please."

He watched as the Fireflash continued to grate along the ground, the air rent by squeeling brakes and tortured metal. The change of direction set in place by the sacrificial driver gradually took effect and more and more the stricken airliner headed off the runway, toward the waiting verge. Slowly, slowly, the momentum lessened and the immense aircraft slowed and gradually came to rest.

The next minutes were manic. Screaming, tearful, shocked passengers were hastened out of their seats, through the aircraft and out through the emergency doors by the flight attendants. Milo hurried along, aware out of the corner of his eye of the blue-clad figure of Miss Kyrano only a few steps away from him. Once outside the aircraft their ears were deafened by the klaxons and alarm bells of the emergency vehicles and fire tenders and they could barely hear the shouts of the rescue personnel encouraging them away from the scene. As he ran back down the asphalt he caught a flash of blue and saw his travelling companion heading off at a tangent toward the side of the runway. Accelerating he tried to catch up with her but she was fit and healthy and ran as if the wind were at her back. An ambulance screeched past him and quickly overtook the girl, rapidly followed by a fire tender engine. As he watched the vehicles came to a halt and men leapt out. Most headed for the ditch where, he now remembered, one of the vehicles of the rescue organisation had overturned. One of the men ran back to the girl and caught her in his arms, preventing her from going further.

As he approached the two figures he could hear distraught sobs coming from the girl interspersed with pleadings for the rescue of the driver of the vehicle. Reaching forwards Milo put his arms around the girl.

"I'll take her." He nodded towards the ditch "We'll be alright. Go and help."

Nodding thankfully the man relinquished his hold and moved away to help his colleagues in the ditch.

Murmuring soft words of reassurance to the girl in his arms Milo resumed the long walk back to safety. Miss Kyrano, still sobbing, accompanied him without resistance but kept her face turned towards the ditch where the workers laboured to free the driver. As he walked he had time for reflection. He was alive, unharmed and the rest of his life lay ahead of him. He did not know what the future held but he did know one thing – Miss Kyrano had no room in her heart for him and the lucky streak of Milo C Traylor, which had begun with an idea in the night had ended with a miraculous rescue on the runway of London Airport.


End file.
